


Give me a boost

by bluecurls



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Darcy is the fandom bicycle and I love it, F/M, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls
Summary: Prompt: “Please put me down; it’s just a sprained ankle!”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Please put me down; it’s just a sprained ankle!”

Darcy Lewis hated Tony Stark. _Hated him_. She hated him like mailmen hated dogs. Like dogs hated cats. Like cats hated everyone. Who else but the fucking devil would combine M &Ms, Skittles and Reese’s Pieces in one bowl?

“To be fair, you did detonate a glitter bomb on his suit,” Jane had pointed out when Darcy spit out a mouthful of the disgusting combination. She should have known better than trust an innocent bowl of candy on her desk in Jane’s lab, but it was huge and she loved candy. She'd totally take candy from a stranger, _especially_ if it was covered in chocolate.

“I didn’t detonate a glitter bomb on his suit. It just happened to explode near his suit,” Darcy muttered as she continued the tedious task of sorting the candy into three respective piles, a task that was approaching the two hour mark.

And her high school guidance counselor said she lacked focus.

“Please put me down; it’s just a sprained ankle!”

Darcy glanced up at Jane’s complaint, her chair rolling across the floor as she jumped to her feet and rushed to her best friend, currently engulfed by Thor’s massive arms.

Lucky bitch.

“Janie! What happened?” She whipped her head around the lab, looking for the source of injury. Yeah, she and Jane got injured on the job; quite often, in fact. You think ripping holes in the universe was easy? Not to mention the fact that they worked at the Avengers training facility, which tended to get attacked on a semi-regular basis. Bad guys were persistent. Dumb as shit, but persistent. “Were we attacked?” True, her candy-separation mission demanded her full attention, but she was pretty sure she’d know if her life was in danger. Seventy-five percent sure at least.

“We weren’t attacked,” Jane grumbled as she tried to wiggle out of Thor’s arms. Darcy was pretty sure that was the first time that ever happened. “I fell.”

“From what?”

“The roof.”

“You fell off the roof? What, are you Barton now?” Tony asked as he entered the lab, smirking pointedly at the candy dotting Darcy’s desk before turning his attention to Jane.

“She did not fall off the roof,” Thor corrected as he gently examined Jane’s ankle. Normally Bruce would be the one to play doctor, but he was already laid up in the medical, sleeping off his last Hulk transformation. Darcy planned to share the Reese’s Pieces with him. That is, if she ever finished sorting the candy.

“ _Someone_ ,” Jane glared at Tony, “took it upon themselves to mess with my equipment.”

“Equipment,” Tony snorted. “That monstrosity is – “

“Not yours!” Jane shouted. “It’s mine!”

“It’s my roof!”

“It’s my research!”

“Still my roof!”

Darcy turned back to her candy, familiar with the scene. Tony and Jane loved to argue. Had they not been happily involved with Pepper and Thor respectively, she’d chalk it up to sexual tension. Instead, it was more Tony not being able to deal with the fact that someone knew more about something than he did. He was desperate to work with Jane, but had no concept of asking, so he barged in where he wasn’t allowed and Jane went all Mama Bear in response.

It was quite entertaining. Normally she'd enjoyed the verbal smack down with snacks, but … “I hate you.” Darcy threw a green Skittle at Tony. She hated those almost as much as she hated him.

“Stay away from my suit.”

“You stay away from my equipment!” Jane yelled.

“I think it would be best if everyone dispersed for the rest of the day,” Thor announced, his voice taking on that authoritative tone only rivaled by Steve’s Captain America Voice (copyright pending). Thor wasn’t often the voice of reason, but when he was, you listened. “I’m going to take my Jane to our rooms to rest.”

“But … science!” Jane protested.

“No more science for you today, Janie,” Darcy rubbed small circles on her friends back. “Play hooky. Watch cheesy movies. Soak in the bathtub. Pamper yourself.”

Jane’s shoulder slumped in defeat. “Fine, but can you go to the roof and fix what _he_ broke?” The question was directed at Darcy, but Jane’s razor-sharp glare was all for Tony.

“Sure.” Darcy wasn’t a scientist by any stretch, but she’d jerry-rigged enough of Jane’s homemade machines over the years to know what doohickey went where. Giving Tony a smirk of her own -- “Ha, ha! You don’t get to play!” she sang as she swept out of the lab -- Darcy took the elevator to the roof.

“Oh,” she murmured as she took in the pile of think science journals strewed haphazardly beside an overturned metal lab stool. Apparently Jane had needed height to fix whatever “improvements” Tony had made. Fuck. That was the one thing she lacked. That and a ladder. The facility didn’t have one. Not even a step stool. Tony claimed it was because most of the inhabitants could fly. Or had acrobatic skills to rival an Olympic gymnastics team. Or were freaking ass tall. Darcy was pretty sure it was to ignore his own height deficiency.

With a heavy sigh, Darcy righted the chair and fisted her hands on her hips as she considered her next step. Granted, Jane’s attempt at balancing on top of books on top of a stool hadn’t worked out for her, but Darcy did have almost two inches on her BFF. She could do this. She piled the books on the chair, slid a roll of duct tape on her wrist and started to climb.

She did not shriek when a muscled arm wrapped around her waist. She’d challenge anyone who said otherwise.

“Do I even want to know?” Steve asked as he set Darcy on her feet.

“Dammit, Steve!” Darcy smacked him in the shoulder, ignoring the quick jab of pain that shot up her arm. It was like hitting a brick wall. “You could’ve hurt me!”

“Seems to me you were doing a good job with that yourself.” He moved the stool away from the machine.

“Tony broke Jane’s machine,” she told him.

“I heard,” Steve smiled.

“She asked me to fix it.”

“I’m doubt her request meant she wanted you to get injured, too.”

Darcy huffed out her breath. Leave it to Captain America to insist on workplace safety. “Fine,” she decided. “You’re here. You’re helping.”

Steve gave her another one of his genial grins. He was too nice for this world. If she were a better person, she wouldn’t spend so much of her free time fantasizing about his amazing chest and picture-perfect ass, imagining the many (many, MANY) creative ways she could tarnish his Golden Boy reputation.

“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked.

“Loaded question, my friend.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Never mind,” she said quickly. “Here; kneel down.”

He did as she asked (Seriously, the fun she could have with him!) and she clambered on to his shoulders. Resting her hands on his head (Kudos to her for not raking her fingers through the golden strands; she _did_ have self-control!), she waited for him to get to his feet, marveling at his ability to do so with barely a wobble.

“Now what?” Steve asked as he wrapped his hands around her thighs. Darcy knew he did so as precaution, but Jesus, she’d been imagining her thighs wrapped around his head for so long!

“What?” He stumbled. She grabbed his hair. She did _not_ shriek. Again.

“Huh?” She had a funny feeling she said that thighs around Steve’s head thing out loud because fate was a bitch -- and the tips of Steve’s ears were turning pink. God help her, he was a precious little cinnamon roll and she wanted nothing more than to gobble him up!

“Darcy!” Steve protested.

“Sorry!” She waved her hand to the bulking pieces of metal held together by little more than a quest to discover -- and a few nuts and bolts. “Just go over there so I can fix whatever Tony did and we can get out of here.”

He did as she asked, saying nothing as she untangled the mess of cords, plugging things in to where they needed to be, wrapping duct tape around them for safe measure, though Lord knows that wouldn’t deter Tony longer than five minutes. “OK; I’m done,” Darcy announced. She allowed her hand to rest against Jane’s machine as Steve knelt down. He kept one hand on her leg as she swung the other to the ground, not letting go until he was sure she had her bearings.

“Thank you for your help,” she said as he stood to his full height, his face still showing some signs of embarrassment over her less-than-subtle comments. Normally, she’d be embarrassed, too, but he was doing such a good job for the both of them. Besides, she meant every word.

“Really?” he asked.

She clamped her hands over her mouth. Did Stark lace the candy with truth serum? She wouldn’t put it past him!

Steve was watching her. Studying her. She had no idea what he was thinking as his eyes searched hers, the impossible blue drawing her in until she was – OK, when did she end up in his arms? And why were his wrapped around her waist?

“I know you’re a talker, but do you always say everything you’re thinking?”

Darcy shrugged. “Only if it’s working for me.”

Steve pulled her closer. “Oh, it’s definitely working, sweetheart.”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding in one slow exhale. “So the thoughts of my thighs and your head …”

His eyes flashed with dark promise. “If they're half as good as what I’ve imagined …”

She pulled back, just a little. “Really? A few seconds ago you were Mr. Innocent!”

He shook his head wryly. “Not so innocent, doll; haven’t been for some time.”

She cocked her head to the side. Interesting. “Really?”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a mocking grin. “Want me to prove it?”

He’d barely finished asking before she had his hand clasped in hers and was dragging him to the door. Thank God she had the rest of the workday off -- she had an experiment to conduct!

“You’re saying your thoughts out loud again,” Steve told her.

“I’m OK with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the green apple-flavored Skittles.


End file.
